


can't do without you (and I won't)

by smugdensmitchell



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: 24/01/2020, Fluff, I'm god awful at tags, I'm terribly emotional, M/M, Sharing a Bed, back together, ballum - Freeform, continuation fic (kinda), episode coda, hand holding, lots of softness, where they belong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22401577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smugdensmitchell/pseuds/smugdensmitchell
Summary: Callum narrows his eyes at the other man’s jibe, but he can’t stop the threat of a wide, contented smile showing on his face. “‘Course,” he mutters lightly, but his expression lapses into sincerity soon after. “You did the right thing.”“I know,” Ben whispers.Or, the first night that Callum and Ben share a bed together after over a month of separation, set after yesterday's episode (24/01/2020) when Ben decides to stay in Walford.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 12
Kudos: 195





	can't do without you (and I won't)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello...again! 
> 
> I feel like I'm posting on this site _far_ too frequently at the minute, I need to lay off the endless scenarios in my head, haha!
> 
> Last night's reunion was a dream, and I reached out on twitter to see if anyone wanted a oneshot based on their first night back in each other's arms (where they belong) (*sobs aggressively*). 
> 
> Anyway, the response was wonderful and overwhelming, so here it is!! :) 
> 
> Enjoy! X
> 
>  **NB:** Title is based on the reunion song from the ep - 'Can't Do Without You' by Caribou.

Tonight, Ben takes his time drawing the curtains. 

For most of his life, it had been a mindless action; something done in autopilot mode. 

No second thoughts. 

But, as of late, it had been something much more calculated, like a physical and emotional relief, of sorts. It was a final bow; a separation of the person he _portrayed_ from the person he really _was._

The drawing of the curtains, the removal of the mask. 

_A safe space to break._

But, this time, things are different. 

“You okay?” he hears, the door opening as feet patter gently across the floor. “I, uh, I brought you a drink. Well, two drinks actually,” Callum explains, clumsily, placing the mug down first and the bottle of beer second. “I made a tea, but...but then I wasn’t sure if you’d, uh, you’d fancy a beer, so…” his voice trails off as he scratches above the elastic of his shorts awkwardly, obviously awaiting Ben’s approval. 

“Tea’s fine,” Ben mumbles, adoringly, conscious of the way Callum hovers beside the bed, reluctant to climb in. “I’m, uh...I’m on the straight an’ narrow now, remember?” he jokes, his tone thick with irony. 

Callum narrows his eyes at the other man’s jibe, but he can’t stop the threat of a wide, contented smile showing on his face. “‘Course,” he mutters lightly, but his expression lapses into sincerity soon after. “You did the right thing.” 

“I know,” Ben whispers. 

And, he does know. _Of course he knows._ With Callum stood before him on the other side of the bed, here within the space that Ben had since reserved for one, and the glow of the lamp illuminating the compassion and empathy in his eyes.

How could that _ever_ be the _wrong_ thing? 

Grabbing a handful of the duvet, Ben pulls it back carefully, observing Callum’s somewhat apprehensive stance. He chooses not to pry, rather just climbing in as nimbly as possible. Callum had offered him so much understanding in the absence of reason, this week. 

In the face of revelation and shock, when the lure of judgement must’ve been _so_ tempting, he’d chosen to trust in Ben. 

So, Ben chooses to trust in Callum, too. He chooses to trust that, eventually, Callum will climb into bed beside him. 

_I will be anywhere that you are._

And, of course, he **does**. 

He does so with equal care, and with equal caution; so far from what they were used to before. There’s no falling onto the mattress, mouths reluctant to leave the warmth of the other’s. There’s no fumbling with each other’s clothes, no hands grabbing wherever and _whenever,_ desperate to pick up the pace. 

There’s no natural gravitation towards one another, no slotting together without a second thought; the two final pieces of the perfect jigsaw. 

Ben is on his side, Callum is on the other, and they’re closer than they have been in _so_ long.

But, it still isn’t close enough. 

Shifting slightly, Callum rests his back comfortably against the headboard, reaching for the tea and passing it over to the man beside him. “The mug’s a bit hot so, uh...be careful,” he mumbles, handling it with care. 

Ben takes the mug in his hands with a small utterance of gratitude, his gaze completely fixated on the tea. He doesn’t look up at Callum as he takes a sip, the dynamic of the two kick-starting his fears again, that his initial reservations were right. That Callum is a good person, and Ben isn’t. That this _can’t_ work. 

“Does it feel different?” he asks eventually, mustering up the courage to look Callum briefly in the eye, to gauge his reaction. 

“What?” Callum replies, his voice gentle rather than accusing. He’s lowered himself a little further into bed, his upper shoulders using pillows against the headboard for support, and the duvet is draped over his legs exactly as Ben remembers. 

One leg in, one leg out. 

“You, here, layin’ next to me,” Ben starts, circling the rim of the mug with his index finger, all in a bid to distract from his vulnerability. “Does it feel different knowin’ what...what I’ve done?” Ben’s gaze alternates between fixating on Callum, then fixating on anything but, almost as though looking away would soften the potential blow. 

He sees the hand that Callum reaches out before he feels it, lifting the mug out of Ben’s grip and placing it back on the bedside table in one swift movement. When the touch returns, it’s delicate but firm, tugging at Ben to move in a little closer. 

As he edges in, Callum readjusts himself, sitting before Ben with his legs fully out of the duvet and folded beneath him. “What did I say to you the day you broke up wi’ me?” he asks, both hands folded around Ben’s, connected and resting between them. 

Ben’s shoulders lift in a feeble shrug, almost entranced by the reassuring motion of Callum’s thumbs against the skin of his palms. His attention is refocused when Callum lifts their hands to nudge at Ben’s leg, urging Ben him to look at him.

“I said that you could tell me anything,” Callum reminds him, searching for recollection in the shorter man’s eyes. “A-and I said that it wouldn’t matter to me.” He squeezes Ben’s hands briefly before letting them go, placing his own on either side of Ben’s neck instead. It’s a gesture so natural to Callum now. So familiar. So _them._

“I know, but…” 

“I meant it, Ben, alright? I meant it,” Callum reiterates, the promise in his eyes never faltering. He moves forward slightly, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his boyfriend’s hairline, closing his eyes and relishing in the reality of having him back again. 

Ben leans into the touch, his heartbeat momentarily irregular as Callum let’s him know, “we’ll get through this, okay? We’ll get through it together.” 

And, deep down, Ben believes him. He has no choice but to believe him. 

Because, it’s in the way that Callum looks at him as he grabs at the duvet, readjusting himself back under the covers. It’s in the way they both settle beneath it, touching this time, Ben’s head resting comfortably on Callum’s bare chest.

And, it’s in the way that they kiss, touch, _taste;_ the intensity all too much as Callum shows him in the way that he moves against Ben, 

_we’ll get through this together._

…

“I’d have probably been on a balcony with a beer by now,” Ben murmurs into the other man’s neck afterwards, dazed amidst the scent of aftershave, of sweat, of sex. Of _Callum._

“Errr, an’ I wouldn’t be givin’ up three-quarters of the bed,” Callum jokes back, a tentative hand stroking through Ben’s hair, the leg residing out of the duvet hooked around his boyfriend’s form. “You win some, you lose some.”

“I mean, you _have_ got me locked in,” Ben claims indignantly, nudging at Callum’s leg with his own, and then he nestles even further into the other man’s side, if possible. “M’not complainin’, though.” 

“Sounds a bit like you’re complainin’ to me,” Callum says, and Ben can hear the smile in his voice. “Anyway, I’m just makin’ sure you don’t do a runner in the middle of the night.” 

And he’s kidding, of course he is, but it doesn’t prevent the other man from hearing the touch of delicate honesty in his tone. “Yeah well,” Ben starts, peppering three light kisses along Callum’s jawline, “I told ya...I’m stayin’ here, where I belong,” he whispers. “Even if it means you losin’ your personal space in bed, again,” he adds with a grin.

Ben looks up at Callum expectantly, assuming the other man would be grinning back at him, but instead, Callum’s eyes are saddened and vulnerable, open and honest. “I ain’t had any personal space,” he confesses, shyly, tentative fingers running the length of Ben’s spine. “I ain’t even been sleepin’ in a bed.” 

Propping himself up with his elbow, Ben searches Callum’s features with curiosity and concern, almost afraid of what he’s just heard. Afraid of meaning _that_ much to someone. “Seriously?” he asks softly, no judgement inferred.

“I mean, the mate I stayed with could only offer me a sofa, anyway, but, uh...since I’ve come back…” Callum trails off, bringing his hand back up to nestle in Ben’s hair, “...just didn’t see the point, y’know,” he explains, his voice smaller and quieter with every syllable, “not without you.” 

Ben brings his free hand up to Callum’s face, using the back of his knuckles to brush gingerly across Callum’s cheek. There’s so many things that he could say, so many things that he **wants** to say. 

_Thank you,_ perhaps, for never giving up on him. 

_Me too,_ maybe, because Ben found sleeping alone to be an empty, comfortless experience that he never quite mastered in Callum’s absence. 

_I love you,_ of course; he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. 

“I’m sorry,” he settles for, his voice barely surpassing a whisper. 

Callum gives a small shake of his head in response, pressing a lasting, open-mouthed kiss to Ben’s lips. It’s his way of saying that it’s okay, that no apology is necessary, and Ben melts into it, the benign sound of everything falling into place playing out in his head. 

… 

The next morning, Ben takes his time opening the curtains. 

For most of his life, it had been a mindless action; something done in autopilot mode. 

No second thoughts. 

But, as of today, it had been something much more carefully executed, like the welcoming of a new day, a new chapter, _a new start._ It was done so with warmth, with contentment and hope; the aura of someone that had finally slept well, slept _peacefully,_ for the first time in over a month. 

The feeling of Callum’s arms enveloping him from behind are an instant reminder of why, and he leans back ever-so-slightly into the touch, welcoming the gentle, yet ardent kiss to his neck.

Callum is the safe space, should he ever need to break.

This time, things are different.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :) 
> 
> I'm **@scofieldsballum** on twitter, and **smugdensmitchell** on tumblr if you wanna say hi!! :)
> 
> lots and lots of love xx


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